The Soul Is On Its Knees
by IShouldBeWriting
Summary: A bad night leaves Becker raw, giving both him and Jess unexpected insight into the uphill battle they've chose to face together. The next installment in my Becker/Jess "Breakable" universe. This story is placed after "Hands Are The Heart's Landscape".


Author's Note: I owe a huge thank you to Not_From_Stars for beta-ing this and being my cheering squad this week when this story was just refusing to be written. I also owe a big thank you to textual_deviance for helping me finally focus in on Becker's religious background. If I write another 3000 word monster like this one, I'll hit my goal of 10,000 words by the end of the month when the next story gets published. So come cheer me on folks by leaving me some feedback. The spaghetti junction monster LOVES feedback!

BJ~~BJ~~BJ~~BJ~~BJ~~

He'd been feeling cock-sure and daring earlier in the day as he gave Jess' first self defense lesson. It had felt so comfortable and easy. Defenses down Becker had relaxed into the unexpected physical intimacy of the moment. The growing emotional closeness between them had left his heart flying high. He truly wanted this body and soul. Now as the grey pre-dawn light filtered into his bedroom, Becker cursed himself and his pride. He'd had dinner, read for a while, and gone to bed at a reasonable hour but here he was wide awake after a series of horrendous nightmares. He knew now that it'd been foolish to think that just finding the right girl would absolve him of the heavy burden of personal history. How could he have been so stupid as to believe it would be that simple?

The first dream had slipped away before he'd returned to the level of full consciousness. He'd sat there tangled in sweat dampened sheets and shivering coldly as he endeavored to recall what few remnants he could. Pulling a blanket around his shoulders he closed his eyes and attempted to bring the dreams back into conscious focus. He'd been dreaming of Jess; how she'd lightly kissed his cheek at the end of the awful day with the Therocephelians. A smile flitted across his generous lips only to be erased as he remembered the next piece of his dream. It'd been winter and Becker had been young enough to be sent to bed while his parents held a dinner party. He'd crept out onto the stairs to watch the guests arrive. His mother's gaze went cold as his father kissed the cheek of a gaily dressed woman while sliding her coat off her shoulders. In the brief moment of solitude they'd shared while waited for the next guest to appear his mother had lashed out at his father for being boorish and inappropriately forward with another man's wife. Revisiting the memory from so many years distance, Becker realized that the woman looked rather a bit like Jess.

Blanket still wrapped tightly across his bare shoulders, Becker slid back down and tried to return to sleep. The next nightmare must have claimed him quickly. A half hour later he'd woken on the hardwood floor beside his bed.

This time he had no more than fragments to remember. A plump lip rolling through pearl-like teeth. Softly curved legs entwined with his own as her calf shifted across the sensitive skin of his instep. That startling moment of clarity after diffusing the bomb when he'd held her body pressed to him as she shook in reaction.

Still trembling with a tight knot in his chest, he'd gotten up to take a hot shower. He'd found himself sobbing for breath as the water pounded on the crown of his head and the width of his shoulders. "Deliver me O Jesus from the desire of being loved..."

Weary of fighting his own mind Becker pulled on a pair of track pants, laced up his trainers, tossed his keys in his pocket, and began to run. In the chill and damp of the morning there was no destination in mind. All he sought was the simple comfort of movement. The fluidity of skin and bone, muscle and pavement provided a soothing rhythm temporarily gracing him with the forgetfulness he so desperately needed. He knew that it was temporary at best, but he felt raw after the night's events was not yet ready to face his own demons in daylight.

BJ~~BJ~~BJ~~BJ~~BJ~~

Becker spent the majority of the day drilling the SAS companies on weapons maintenance for the EMDs. He almost convinced himself that a busy day had been his reason for having not seen Jess at all. In the quiet of the armoury he focused on packing away the last of the EMDs.

"I came by earlier," Jess said hesitantly, "but it looked like you had your hands full."

That she'd managed to get close enough to touch him before he knew she was there was a testament to his inner turmoil. She took a quick step backwards when simply laying a hand on his shoulder caused him to flinch.

"Mmmm..." Becker responded noncommittally without looking up from his work.

Jess stepped around to the other side of the table. His shoulders loosened as she moved away but it took a concerted effort for him not to follow. It seemed that his body was determined to play Judas to his heart today. The tangible sensuality of his dreams last night had only sharpened his conflict. Today he felt like every nerve in his body was sensitized by her closeness. He knew he needed to address his problems, but that wasn't something he could ask her to go through with him. He wanted her so very badly, but bright daylight on his personal demons showed that he had nothing worthwhile to offer in return. How could he possibly offer himself to her in such a broken state?

"You'd mentioned checking my small fire arms proficiency. Do you still have time for that today?"

Becker knew he should have said no but found himself nodding agreement before his mouth even opened. Damnit, he just couldn't seem to control himself where she was concerned.

Lips pressed together in a tight, irritated line, he stowed away the rest of the EMDs and checked out one of the standard issue P229A2 SIG pistol from the munitions locker. He gestured wordlessly toward the corridor leading to the firing range, following behind so he could keep her at a comfortable distance as he attempted to regain his composure.

Pistol and magazine placed on the table beside the ear protection he stepped away as she moved up to take her place.

"Check and load the pistol before you step up to the firing line," he said steadily, trying to regain the ragged shreds of his discipline. He needed to fall back into the neutral mindset of instructor which had worked so well the previous day.

"Discharge three rounds aiming in each instance for a lethal target of your choice; head, heart, or neck. When you're done, we'll evaluate your results and I'll offer critique as necessary."

Jess gave a short nervous nod before picking up the ear protection. Under his watchful eye, she fumbled slightly as she confirmed a clear chamber, checked the trigger action, and loaded the pistol's magazine. Stretching the ear protection over her head, Jess stepped up to the firing line. Becker could see her loosen her shoulders and breath for a moment before she raised her arms and sighted down the SIG's barrel. Breath held, she released the first round. While it did hit the target it obviously went wide of it's intended placement, hitting the paper a few inches away from the left ear. Becker suspected that the second and third rounds were discharged in quicker succession than Jess had originally planned. This time one shot hit high on the left arm and the other hit solidly on the left side of the chest. Pushing the button to bring the target forward, Jess ejected the magazine from the pistol, cleared the chamber then set it and the ear protection down on the table before stepping back from the line.

Becker walked forward to confirm the placement pattern on the paper. He'd watched her body as she fired and noted that with a couple corrections her aim would have been far more accurate.

"Not bad," he offered, "but you do have a tendency to pull high and left each time you fire. Is it the recoil?"

"I suspect so," Jess offered.

"While you could compensate by intentionally correcting your aim, it'd be better to learn to adjust your hands and arms to take the recoil instead. I want you to try again; this time shift your left hand down to cup the bottom of the pistol's grip. Because you've shifted your hand positioning one arm should now take the downward recoil while the other steadies you from shifting left."

With a nod of understanding, Jess stepped back up to the firing line, checked and reloaded the pistol, then raised her arms to fire. Becker relaxed as he watched her with a critical eye. While it wasn't perfect, the first round at least hit the target on the chest. More confident as she widened her stance, Jess released the next two rounds steadily one after the other hitting a few inches left of the neck and slightly high on the left shoulder again. With a sigh of frustration, she brought the target forward and stepped away.

"The grip adjustment helped but its still not enough," he opined.

"Perhaps I just need practice?" Jess volunteered.

"No, there's something odd going on related to your stance. Take up the pistol again as if you were going to fire and let me have a look."

Becker gave her a moment to settle into her firing position before moving up beside her. Walking round, he checked her position from all sides before stepping back again.

"Whatever it is must happen right as you pull the trigger because from here, your position looks solid. Try again. This time I want you to fire 6 rounds before you stop."

With a determined set to her chin, Jess chambered her first round, breathed in, aimed, and fired. This time Becker though he saw it. He shifted his position to watch from the side as she fired off her second round. By the third round, he was certain he knew what was wrong. Stepping up close behind her as Jess fired for the fourth time, he gently placed one hand on her ribs right below the shoulder blade and the other on top of her shoulder with his fingers resting on her collarbone. Startled, the round didn't even hit the paper this time. Jess turned her head to look at him but he simply nodded back toward the target. He felt her just breath for a few moments as she adjusted to his hands and tried to ignore their presence. Arms raised, she released her last two rounds both of which confirmed the movement pattern he'd seen earlier. Before she could lower her arms again, Becker slid his left hand up from her ribs to the underside of her arm. After a moment, he nodded and stepped away again. Trembling a little Jess slid the ear protection off, ejected the empty magazine from the pistol and placed it on the table.

"So?"

"It's deep muscle twitch, a spasm in your trapezius and latissimus dorsii."

"Where?" she looked at him with confusion.

"Here," he laughed, "its easier if I demonstrate. Mind if I...?" he let the sentence trail off as he gestured toward her back again. "Just clasp your hands behind your head and I'll show you where the muscles are."

Jess obligingly laced her fingers and placed them at the base of her skull. Becker stepped up behind her once more and smoothed his hand from the center of her back upwards. She jumped when his fingers dug in lightly just below her shoulder blade.

"Oooo, I take it that's a bit sore? I'm not using much pressure but these muscles," he tapped them again with the tips of his fingers for emphasis, "shouldn't be that tight. You really ought to have a professional see to it. Probably all those hours spent in front of the keyboard."

His hand slid the rest of the way up before his fingers stroked more firmly across a band of muscles on top of her shoulder.

"This is one end of the insertion for the trapezius muscle," he explained, "it wraps across the top of your shoulder and up your neck. Not as bad as the other one, but I'd say this one's pretty tight too. The spasm from these two over used muscles could easily cause your aim to be off. I'd say go get it tended to by a professional therapist before we try this again."

"How on Earth do you know all of that?" Jess marveled at the revelation of this unexpected side of Becker. She'd read his files and knew there wasn't any medical training in his background.

"My father's a surgeon," he replied, "I expect he always hoped I'd follow him into the profession. He certainly made sure I passed every biology test I've ever taken with flying colors."

Becker realized that the ache he'd been carrying around inside him all day was gone. He'd become comfortable in his own skin again, calmed by the easy banter they'd always shared. His hand was still resting on her shoulder and he gave a gentle squeeze. Jess yelped and almost jumped out of his grasp.

"Hey, easy there," he said as he closed the distance between them again.

"Sorry, but that hurt a bit. You've got rather a firm grip."

"Oh, I don't think it's that so much as your tight muscles. Let me do something about that for you," he asked, placing his hands gently back on her shoulders once more.

"Only if you'll join me for dinner first?" she replied. "Its the least I can do if you're going to give me a massage."

Jess immediately felt the change in Becker's grip. She felt the tension and stillness in his body behind her and held her breath as she realized she must have overstepped her bounds. When nothing more happened, she turned around to look at him. Face tight and eyes focused on some far away pain, Becker might have turned to stone. Worried, Jess ran her fingers gently down the side of his face.

"I shouldn't have said that, should I?" she said as she stroked her thumb across his cheek.

"No, Jess, you didn't do anything wrong. At the risk of sounding terribly cliched, its not you, its me."

"Come again?" she inquired.

"You deserve better than this," he replied with a gesture to encompass the exchange they'd just shared.

"For anyone else, this should have been normal, but I'm not anyone else. I'm sorry for the mixed signals, Jess. Trust me, it's not intentional. I'd thought I could handle this on my own, but it appears that I was wrong. Believe me when I tell you that I enjoy being with you, I want quite badly for this closeness between us to keep growing. But I'm a very broken man, Jess, and you deserve better than this."

He turned away unable to bring himself to see the disappointment he knew she must be feeling. When her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, he couldn't suppress a shiver.

"You'll pardon me if I'm not willing to just give up on you so easily," she whispered. "Why don't you tell me what I've missed, and let me decide for myself?"

Becker turned to look her in the eye and found that it was the wrong decision. Just seeing the firm confidence and hope she still held was his undoing.

With the last shred of his control, he tried to warn her again, "you don't understand; this is never going to be easy."

"Nothing good ever came easily," she replied, "but trust me, you are good. And if I'm right, you'll be well worth the effort."

Wordlessly he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face against her neck. Surprised Jess wrapped her arms more securely around his waist, simply holding him as he shook with silent tears.

BJ~~BJ~~BJ~~BJ~~BJ~~

"Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when, whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees." – Victor Hugo


End file.
